


Gentle Security, Loving Warmth

by orphan_account



Category: Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice (Video Game)
Genre: Eggpreg, Mindbreak, Other, Oviposition, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, less porny more just disturbing, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 09:31:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21241916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Should you be captured, there is no telling what would become of you.”There are worse fates than becoming the broodmate to a force of a thousand strong. He’s safe here; happy. They, too, are happy with him.





	Gentle Security, Loving Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> hey it's my halloween fic, sorry if you end up vomiting instead of jacking off to this  
dont yell at me, everyone and their mother knows i, ur resident monsterfucker, have a bigass ovi kink

Wolf should have known better. Really, he should have. Even in the darkest of caverns, his shinobi eyes should not have failed him. He should have been more alert, more aware of his surroundings.

Instead, he was ambushed by those centipede men that scraped and crawled along the ground and walls, creature-like men that he normally could fend away easily by their lonesome. He fell prey to a flurry of blade-like nails and gnashing teeth no matter how hard and long he struggled; death upon death does little to dull the pain of violence.

However, he didn’t die. Inhuman nails pinned his limbs onto the ground as a monk came close. He couldn’t breathe, could barely think, and a violent darkness claimed his senses.

He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t like to remember.

There's multitudes of skittering legs that ghost over his skin, a monotonous pattern that keeps him quiet. It's familiar, and familiarity is safety. He takes his hand and and pets over the chitinous exoskeleton of one of his mates, who makes her way over his chest. Several jaws scrape over his skin, dutifully cleansing him from any filth.

He feels it all around him, tens upon hundreds of bodies that circle around each other and traverse each story of the shrine he's encased in. He hopes the humans won't come, what with their painful grips and hoarse, harsh words. They're deplorable, really, and he can feel how his mates tolerate them at most, a means to an end.

He's different though. Special.

He shifts to make way for a few that make his way around his legs and he groans in complaint; he's full, too full, his unused limbs complaining against his bloated belly. The multitude responds quickly and shift to make his burden more bearable, chittering soothing rhythms into his ear.

There is strength and safety in numbers. They'll protect him, they promise, and he believes them.

He doesn't feel the bursting eggs until later on in the evening when he finally registers the fragile, crawling bodies inside his bowels. His mates respond to his whimpers immediately and swarm him, covering every inch of his body to shield him and their children from the world outside. A few make warning shrieks, muffled by their distance, and all Wolf can think is, good, keep the humans and their filthy hands away.

A centipede’s body isn’t one made for warmth, but enough touch and pressure can emulate the sensation. His whimpering becomes louder as sunlight fades from the only window into the shrine, and even their jaws and pincers do little to help him. It’s not painful, no, but Wolf finds it impossible to get used to the feeling of nearly a hundred bodies inside him, yearning for freedom from their makeshift womb.

The first makes its way out eventually from his loose hole, and its siblings follow soon afterwards, and the shock of being emptied so quickly breathes something new and clear into his brain.

He’s… He’s… He doesn’t belong here, doesn’t he? He has something to do, he’s not like his mates--

Something pierces his arm and he cries out softly in response, wincing at the liquid pressure oozing into him. He can feel his heart racing; why is he so scared of his mates? What’s wrong? What’s going on?

Their chittering voices and skittering legs stall his thoughts, and a mate drops something inside his mouth, then moves to cover his mouth; a small act of privacy as he takes the juicy thing and crush its life between his teeth. They worry over him, they care for him, and who is he to deny them? He takes the food they give him, chopped up in small bites that he can chew and swallow without issue. He’s exhausted, always exhausted, and they’re so kind to do so much for him.

Another of his mates, a male, slips his body between his legs and position his posterior towards his empty and wanting hole. He can’t move his body, but there’s no need to when his mates adjust him accordingly instead. There’s little resistance as he’s penetrated, but he does shiver and moan as he feels the thick, white globules of sperm ooze past his walls. The male retreats quickly; the females are quick to shoo him away, an unnecessary presence within the heart of this den that used to be a shrine.

Or maybe it still is a shrine? Wolf’s mind wanders listlessly, and it fades as soon as it came. He’s too empty anyways, he’s missing something. He feels another pair of fangs pierce into him, this time on his thigh, and he moans instead of crying. Pain he can recognize is as sweet as life’s greatest pleasures.

Wolf doesn’t speak; why should he when his mates don’t need to? They curl around him and chatter in their incomprehensible tongue that he learned long ago to listen to. He knows what they want and what they need: _him_.

He’s wanted. He’s needed. That’s all he’s ever asked for.

A female is the one next to approach his hole after a brief scuffle with a few others that broke up after Wolf barked out something in displeasure at the sight. Her Beady eyes bore into him, and then she leans her head down to wrap around his cock gingerly. He can feel the pressure from both halves pressing lightly around his cock, like pressing a dull knife on skin, and it’s exhilarating in a way that has him holding his breath in anticipation. She drinks in his pre-cum, slight scraping and laps against the head; he’d squirm in place were he not held down by venom and hundreds of centipedes.

Another mate, this time a male one, uses a small gap to wrap himself around Wolf’s torso, it’s jaws joining to massage and milk Wolf of all of his cum (or so it feels like) as the tail end of his body faces his head. He opens his mouth without question or hesitation, letting in what could only be the other’s equivalent of a cock inside past his lips. He puckers his lips and sucks on it, moaning around the short appendage as the centipede shivers from the stimulation. It doesn’t take much for him to release inside him, one bubble at a time.

He rolls them around his mouth with his tongue. It’s firm enough to stay encased and in shape, but when he squeezes it with his back teeth, careful to only do so when the centipede has pulled out, it gives and bursts inside. The taste is oddly sweet, a bastardization of some floral taste that takes too much thought to think on. It’s thick, and he takes his time to swallow it down as a mate grooms his hair once again. He pops each bubble one by one, the male’s offering for Wolf, one easy to satisfy.

They lift up his limp lower body, twist him around until his back is facing the ceiling, the centipede fussing with his hair creaking in protest at the change of positions. She adapts however, and he feels her legs in his hair, as if massaging his scalp. Wolf murmurs something even he can’t understand, and she feels it as a plea for her to continue.

His other mate’s tubular… member sinks into him easily, his hole worn loose by countless breedings and mating. It’s a familiar weight inside him, more than the eggs that took countless tries for him and his mates to get right, and he lets loose a hoarse moan as it fills him up. It’s smooth against his walls, a natural feeling that only his current body could ever understand.

This could be a loveless affair. His mates could just deposit their eggs inside Wolf and make him become a shell of whatever former self he once was, an unwitting incubator for hundreds of young, but they’re better than that. The centipedes who groom him, feed him, adore him, are not mindless beasts that eat and fuck their way through the world like any other living creature.

They love him. They really do.

And that’s why she pulls out and slams back in his ass, making him cry out as pleasure shoots up his spine, her chitinous body undulating with her thrusts. Wolf whines, displeased at how he can’t return the favor with his hands; why do they keep him still whenever he’s bred? Were it not that he could feel everything around and inside him, it would be as if he was nothing more than a bystander to his own body.

For his own safety, the clicking of their jaws whisper. He’s small and precious, and they can’t risk hurting him while making love to him. That would make them bad mates, undesirable mates, and if Wolf could speak he would protest against that too.

There’s no need for a voice though, never with them. There’s no one like them for him; it’s easy to forget the painful world of man when their endless legs and spiraling bodies soothe his aches and worries.

Another mate crawls closer and wraps herself around him too. Wolf pays little mind to her first, instead focusing on the sweet pleasure of having his sweet spot pounded at without end.

That is, until he feels her tip rut at his already-stretched hole. Wolf gasps at the shock of the unexpected touch, but he’s quickly quieted by jaws and legs combing through his hair.

Relax. They are gentle. They mean well. He’s strong, he can take this. They believe in him; he only needs to believe in himself.

She slips inside slowly, giving him time to readjust to another intrusion inside his over-sensitive hole. It helps that the pressure inside his ass is abated somewhat by the other centipede pulling out, although not completely. They’re synchronized almost perfectly, as if operating under one mind. In, out. Out, in.

The stretch and the fullness is enough for his cock to fill, and they chitter in happiness at his pleasure.

Once both of his mates sheath themselves inside him, they fuck him true, coils of dark inhuman bodies gyrating around Wolf, the crux of their hoard and the focus of their lives, and all he can do is lie and take what they give so generously to him. He’s free to release his moans into the air, his dick bobbing rhythmically against his stomach as they pound into him. They reach deep, deeper into him, knowing all the parts of him that he was too ashamed to learn before.

His orgasm comes almost like an afterthought, dribbles of white down his cock that several mates come to lap up too like the sweetest of delicacies. Wolf is a ruined mess, but he’s _their_ ruined mess and isn’t that a lovely thought?

He’s relaxed now, calm, his body soft and pliant. His mates are careful to not hurt his tender body, and jaws continue to clean him and play with his nipples as he’s filled twice over with new eggs that will grow into new young inside of him. It’s a familiar bloated sensation that Wolf welcomes with open arms, muffling his groans against the underside of a centipede coiled around him.

Warm. Safe. Full.

Wolf drowns again in a world he never wants to leave.


End file.
